Tiger

My eldest daughter was three or so, when her Uncle, who had previously been notorious only for getting her M&M's and Icees got her a dog. As I write this, I find there is more I do not know about the dog than I do know.
His name was Tiger. I say his because I am pretty sure Tiger was a "he" but I am not even completely sure about the dog's gender. I seem to recall that he had stripes and that is why she named him Tiger.
She still talks about him, some 30 years later. He was, after all, her first real pet.
I am not sure where Uncle got him, whether he found hmi, bought him, picked him up at the pound. I suspect the latter, since Uncle was a senior in college at the time and now exactly flush with funds to spend on a pet for a niece, even a much loved one.
Tiger stayed in the yard. He was quite happy to, mostly. The yard was large and there were pretty of comfy spots, including one under the house where he could curl up.
That is where he was the last time I remember seeing him, curled up in his comfy spot under the edge of the porch. We were leaving for the holidays we left food and water for Tiger. A neighbor was going to check on him while we were gone and replenish his supply.
It's funny that my child asked me several times, throughout our time away, whether I thought Tiger was alright.
 "What if he is afraid or lonely," she asked.
I assured her and reassured her that he was fine.
What if his comfy spot wasn't warm enough or comfy enough, she wondered.
Then he will find a warmer more comfortable one, I told her.
I hope that is what happened. I hope he found a spot he found more comfortable and stayed there. That is what I want to imagine. I've experienced some pet tragedies and I do not want this to have been one.
I have to imagine because, again, I do not know for sure. What I do know is that when we arrived back home Tiger was not to be found. We checked with the neighbor immediately, who reported no contact with the little dog for a bit. It had not been so long that they were concerned.
We began to search. We searched until it became evident that there was no new place to search. Then we began to wait for Tiger to return on his. He did not.
My daughter still insists we should have taken him with us and will not hear that it was not possible to have done so. I still feel guilty at times about the whole deal.
And that is the next story in the line of stories about our family pets.
The next one is at least funnier.